If there comes a time in the Autumn of life

When old ghosts hold a rendezvous,

My mind will wing back to tonight,

And to the charming things you do.

I'll remember love words you've said--

And tenderness will have its sway,

I'll shed a tear for a day that's dead;

And the ghosts shall vanish away.

I know that you, my dear, won't quite forget:

Those other days will haunt you too,

Your pensive hours shall breed regret,

And you will wish them back anew:

(Into every thought will creep, "That Tired Lad",

Who shattered his dreams--to keep you glad.)